


Building what he needs

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2020 [17]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Assault is not discussed in detail, Assault is off-screen, Coda, Day 17, Dirty Secret, Episode: s01e07 Can Opener, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Assault, Using great british bake off as a substitute for therapy, Whumptober 2020, prison rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: After Mac gets out of prison Riley can sense something is off and she asks Mac about it.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947493
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Building what he needs

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [aravenwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood) for her extreme kindness in being willing to beta all of these whumptober fills! Especially so since she's also writing her own (amazing!) fics too! Please go check her out and give her some love!!!

When the op is over and Mac has been extracted, he looks like utter shit. There are a myriad of reasons that it’s to be expected — prison beatings, abduction, being drugged, torture. But there’s a certain look in his eyes that Riley remembers seeing in the mirror. Part of her wonders if it comes with prison in general, or maybe she’s just projecting, but when she watches him it all adds up.

Mac has started flinching ever so minutely whenever people touch him, and his eye contact is totally shot. He’s faking it — watching their nose or eyebrows. The person talking can’t tell, but as an observer it’s clear as day that he’s avoiding something.

She waits until everyone else leaves before she tries to broach the subject, knowing that Mac would slam down the bulkheads if he thought for a second that Jack might catch wind of it. She makes herself at home on the sofa as folks leave. Mac glances at her in askance but he doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t offer. 

Clearly, Mac takes her lingering presence to mean that she needs something from him, rather than the other way around, and he conveniently asks Bozer to give them some space, before flopping down on the other end of the sofa.

“What’s up, Riles?” Mac asks. “You’ve been a little down all day.”

Riley sits up a little and launches right in, not giving either of them the chance to get out of having this conversation. “You remember when we talked about prison? How to talk, how to walk, how to make friends and enemies? Things to avoid?”

Mac looks down at his lap and nods. “I do.”

“I want you to know that everything I told you I learned from experience,” she clarifies.

“So you said,” Mac says.

Riley nods and looks at the floor. He’s being intentionally dense. Or maybe just regular dense, she can’t be sure. “I want you to know that if something like that happened to you, there wouldn’t be any shame in it. I wouldn’t blame you, or say it was your fault, or anything.”

Mac’s shoulders are tight and he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Mac, did someone rape you?” It’s a fucking awful thing to have to ask him, to ask anyone really, and Riley hates that this question is likely going to be the easiest part of this conversation.

Mac swallows and visibly pales. “I- I-” his voice quavers, and his nostrils flare as his breath comes faster. Riley watches as he goes from zero to sixty in about ten seconds, ramping up until his whole body shakes and he’s gasping for air.

“Woah, Mac. Easy. You’re having a panic attack. You’re at home in your living room. It’s just me. You’re safe here. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you here,” Riley says softly. She’s not sure he can even hear her over the rush of his own breath, but she knows better than to move closer or try to touch him. 

“Mac? Hey, can you hear me?” Riley asks after a couple of minutes. Mac’s got his knees tucked up to his chest and his face pressed into his khakis, hiding from her and everything else. “If you can hear me, can you sign ‘yes?’” 

Trembling and slow, Mac’s unfolds one hand and bobs his fist up and down in a “yes” motion. Riley breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, good job, Mac. We’re gonna breathe together, okay? I’m gonna start counting and you just try to match me. It’s okay if it takes a while to get it, all you have to do is count.”

He’s still shaking and hyperventilating, curled up so small Riley almost can’t believe he can squeeze his lanky frame into so small a space. Riley knows it’s gonna take a while to bring Mac down. Hell, when she first started needing to breathe through panic attacks she was sixteen, it took months to get it down to where she could arrest an episode in less than fifteen minutes. 

“Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four…” 

As she repeats the instructions over and over, she closes her eyes and tries to let herself relax. Ever since this op started, Riley’s been carrying all the tension of her time in prison. Every security video feed, every report of Mac getting beaten up, every tiny detail put Riley into high alert like it was her life on the line, too. She knows that if she’s going to be able to help Mac, she needs to take care of herself first.

Slowly, Riley settles, and after a while, Mac begins to as well. His panicked gasping morphs into quiet cries and then wracking sobs. He’d locked it away so well, so carefully, that not even Jack realized the stress wasn’t what Mac had claimed. Riley knows that all she can do is be there for him as the grief and anger come spilling out.

It’s late and it’s been days since any of them slept properly. If Riley’s tired, she knows that Mac has to be near passing out; after all, it was only yesterday that Mac was tortured. 

“Hey, Mac. Do you wanna just hang out on the sofa and watch some TV?” Riley asks. “I know it’s late and you’re tired. It’s easier to get some rest when you’re not thinking about… stuff.”

Mac sniffles and sets his chin on his knees. “What were you thinking?”

“Great British Bake Off?” Riley offers with a shrug. “It’s pretty chill, no chance of anything to trigger you.”

Mac nods, the frustration on his face clear. “Sounds fine, I guess.”

“Mac, this isn’t me babying you. I watch it when I’m struggling. I offered it because I know it works,” Riley explains.

His eyes, which were fixed on the far wall of the living room, drop. “Thanks, Riley.”

“Sure thing.”

Riley fiddles with the remote, some horrible thing that Mac clearly soldered together from the remains of several other remotes, and finally hands it to him in defeat. “I don’t know what you did, but you can fix it,” she says teasingly.

Mac smiles weakly and takes the remote, quickly navigating to the show. They sit in silence, watching people ruin cookies and tortes, and chuckling at the looks of consternation on the judges’ faces. And it’s not a solution by any stretch, but it’s something. 

After another episode, Riley starts to flag. Everything about this week has taken it out of her. 

"Mind if I crash here tonight?" she asks.

Mac looks over. "Not at all."

"Thanks," Riley says and snags one of the blankets from the back of the sofa. She snuggles into the back, wrapping herself up cocoon style except for one hand which she leaves out. She lays it on the couch cushion between them like an offering, _take if you want it._

Physical contact can be really hit and miss after something like this — some people crave it and some can't stand it — but Riley wants this choice to be Mac's. A chosen "yes" can be just as validating as a chosen "no."

Riley's drifting off when she feels Mac's hand tentatively drape over hers. She lets him lead, not trying to take his hand in her own. A minute later the TV cuts off and the living room lights dim. 

Riley's glad that he feels comfortable enough to relax with another person in the room because she never felt at ease enough for that in prison. She wants to be there for Mac in the ways no one was there for her.

*****

In the morning, Riley wakes to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. Mac is puttering around in the kitchen and Bozer has long since left for work. 

"Morning, Riles," Mac calls from the kitchen.

"Mmm you weren't supposed to notice I woke up. I was gonna sleep for another hour," she grumbles.

Mac chuckles softly. "But the coffee would be cold by then and it's not the same if it's reheated."

Riley groans and cracks her back. "Fine. But I'm only getting up for the coffee."

She makes her way to the kitchen, still wrapped in her pilfered blanket, and collects her cup of coffee.

"About last night," Mac says and then immediately stalls out.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Mac," Riley says.

Mac shakes his head. "No, I have to deal with this. I should probably go to a clinic at the very least."

Riley nods. "I went to Planned Parenthood when I got out. They're good. The nurses are trained for stuff like this and they have other resources if you want those, too."

Mac nods shakily, but doesn't speak.

"I can drive you and wait in the car," she offers and Mac sighs heavily.

"Please," he asks. "It would help having you nearby."

"Hey, whatever you need, Mac. I'm here for you," Riley says. And she means it. She'll do whatever she can. 

Mac trembles a little as he holds his coffee and Riley nudges his foot with hers. "Hey, I fell asleep during the last episode of the Bake Off last night. Wanna go rewatch it with me?"

He leads her to the living room where they sit on the sofa and he begins to teach her how his customized Franken-remote works. 

It's a long road for Mac but Riley knows he's nothing if not resilient. She has no doubt that with enough time and support he can figure out and build what he needs, just like the remote in her hands.


End file.
